How Jim Stole Christmas
by Cryptic Nymph
Summary: A twist on "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", as a Christmas present to the ever awesome Blackcurrant Bonbons!


**A/N: Merry Christmas guys! Guess what? I've decided to not update the Christmas fic I've been writing. YAY! So basically, I am an entire year behind my deadline from last year. Bummer. But I didn't want to rush it in order to finish for Christmas anyway, so I'll carry on into 2012 XD**

**I'm sure you're all as excited about Sherlock Series 2 as I am, which is a freaking lot, what with all the trailers and clips and MYCROFT BEING THE KING OF SASS (little bit of a crush there...). We've waited like 17 months and then they overload us with everything at once. MOFFAT!**

**Anyway- this is a poem/christmas present I wrote for the lovely Blackcurrant Bonbons, or Shona as I like to call her, because she's one of my favourite people. It's based on... well, I don't have to explain it to you, you can guess from the title! Enjoy this Dr Seuss inspired Christmas tale. WARNING: contains one crude illusion to Sherlock/John and implied MorMor. WE LOVE MEN WHO LOVE MEN AROUND HERE.**

* * *

><p>Everyone down in Baker Street liked Christmas a lot.<p>

But Jim, who lived just north of there, did NOT!

Jim hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!

Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

It _could_ be because of the hope and goodwill,

It _could_ be because his bombs froze in the chill,

But I think the reason he hated it so

Was because he'd burnt out his heart a long time ago.

But, whatever the reason, his heart or his bombs,

He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating Sherlock and John.

Surveying their flat in his fine Westwood suit,

He frowned very deeply and tried to compute,

Why Sherlock, his equal and so often his folly,

Had dressed up his flat in both tinsel and holly.

"And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer.

"Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"

Then he growled, with his pale fingers nervously drumming,

"I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!

For tomorrow, he knew, oh those Baker Street boys

Would leap into bed to play with 'their toys'

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

They didn't even _try_ to be discreet! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then their friends, young and old, would arrive for a feast

And they'd feast! _And they'd feast! _And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

They would feast on the dinner which Mrs Hudson had made

The typical Christmas meal, a culinary cliché

And THEN they'd do the thing he liked the least

Everyone down in Baker Street, full up from their feast

Sherlock and Lestrade and Mycroft too

Would settle down nicely to watch Doctor Who

And they'd watch! _And they'd laugh! _AND they'd LAUGH! LAUGH! LAUGH! LAUGH!

And the more that Jim thought of their Christmas soiree,

The more that he thought, "I must ruin their day!

"Why, for five long years I've put up with it now!

"I MUST stop this Christmas from coming!... But HOW?"

Then he got an idea! _An awful idea! _

JIM GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

"I know _just_ what to do!" Jim laughed in his throat.

And he pulled out an old balaclava and coat.

And he chuckled and chuckled, "How clever I've been!

"With this disguise they won't see me break in!"

"All I need is a ladder." Jim looked around.

But in Moriarty's flat there were none to be found.

Did that stop Jim? No! Jim simply said,

"If I can't find a ladder, Seb will do instead!"

So he called his 'friend' Seb, whose heart filled with dread,

As he longed to be at home, tucked up in his bed.

THEN he loaded the van and jumped in the front seat

And drove him and Seb to Baker Street.

The pair were in bed, safe from the snow,

The winter's frost and the wind's fierce blow.

All their windows were dark. Not a sight or a sound

Could be seen or be heard, not a person to be found.

Jim looked up at the flat, staring quickly around.

"Seb, I can't climb quite that high," Jim said.

"I'll need to use you as a ladder instead."

Jim clambered up from the ground below,

Pulling himself up level to the window.

One sharp shove and the window sprung free

And he climbed through the entrance in order to see

Where the couple's stockings all hung in a row.

"These stockings," he grinned, "are the _first_ things to go!"

Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,

Around the whole room, and he took every present!

Jumpers! Scarves! Mugs! Imported tea!

An antique watch from Mycroft! Everything under the tree!

And he stuffed them in bags, and began to throw,

The bags out the window to Seb waiting below.

Then he slunk to the fridge, and though there wasn't much left.

All their eggs and their milk were more marks of Jim's theft.

He cleaned out the cupboards, he took all their bread,

He took their experiments, Sherlock's severed head!

Then he went to the window and pushed the bag through,

"And NOW I'll take their damn tree with me too!"

He shoved out their tree with a simper most foul

But it didn't last long when he heard their dog growl.

He turned around fast, and he saw a small hound,

No older than three who was pawing the ground.

To think he'd been caught by the couple's pet!

To think the small puppy could act as a threat!

The dog stared back at Jim, his expression wide eyed.

An accusatory glare, his head cocked to the side.

But Jim Moriarty was so smart and so slick.

He thought up a plan, and he thought it up quick!

He glared at the mongrel and laughed in his throat,

Then took out a kit which he kept in his coat.

Slowly and carefully he began to creep,

Then he injected the cur with serum to sleep.

He waited a while before withdrawing the needle,

Watching the drug take effect on the beagle.

And when he was sure that he'd knocked out the mutt,

He took it to the cupboard and locked the door shut.

He stole the headphones from the moose on the wall,

Then before he went he left a note with a scrawl

"From your darling Jim, Merry Christmas to all!"

He crawled down the drainpipe to the street below

Then squeezed himself through Mrs Hudson's window.

He chortled and giggled, "If only Sherlock knew,

"That I'm stealing from him, and his landlady too!"

It was quarter past dawn, 221 still abed,

Sherlock still a-snooze when he packed up and fled,

Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings!

The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!

He drove through the centre of dark London town,

To dump all their presents in the river to drown,

"I've been so so clever!" he was nastily hissing,

"They're finding out now that their presents are missing!

"They're just waking up! I know _just_ what they'll do!

"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two

"Then everyone down in Baker Street will cry BOO HOO!"

"That's a noise," grinned the Grinch, "That I simply MUST hear!"

So he pulled out the bug and put it to his ear.

But almost at once Jim was startled and he frowned

As he heard a most odd and unexpected sound.

For the sound wasn't sad! Why this sound sounded merry!

It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! Very!

He pulled out a monitor screen from the van,

And he realized his scheme hadn't quite gone to plan,

When he heard Sherlock shout, "This is brilliant news!

"A new robbery case to lighten my blues!"

He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME!

Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And Jim, with his feet frozen cold in the snow,

Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How _could_ it be so?

"It came without ribbons! It came without tags!

"It came without packages, boxes or bags!"

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.

Then Jim thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas is different in Sherlock's head,

"His dream Christmas would be spent deducing instead!"

And what happened then? Well… In the Yard they say,

That Jim realized he'd given Sherlock his dream day,

That he realized that no matter how hard he toiled,

The Christmas at Baker Street was not to be spoiled.

Sherlock and Jim agreed that their feud would end,

On Christmas alone, they could call the other friend.

* * *

><p><strong>THE END! Merry Christmas!<strong>


End file.
